He released her and stepped back, breathing harshly. “I told you this wasn’t going to happen.”

Ellie crossed her arms beneath her breasts, lifting them into mouthwatering prominence, though he was sure she didn’t realize it. “You’re not the boss of me, Conor. We aren’t kids. And I don’t have to take orders from you. I’ve been running my own life just fine.”

“Quit flirting with me,” he demanded, already undressing her in his head. Two things held him back. First, the memory of her dead husband. A year and a half wasn’t long enough to work through that kind of grief. And second, the memory of how a younger Ellie had judged him and found him wanting.

And still, it was damned hard to resist her.

* * *

Second Chance with the Billionaire is part of the Kavanaghs of Silver Glen series: In the mountains of North Carolina, one family discovers that wealth means nothing without love

Second Chance with the Billionaire

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.

Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

For all of you who remember the sweet rush of young love … sometimes it lasts forever.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

One

Conor Kavanagh had been antsy ever since he heard Ellie Porter was back in town. In spite of the many celebrities and moguls who vacationed here, Silver Glen, North Carolina, wasn’t all that big a place. Chances were he’d bump into her sooner or later.

The notion gave him goose bumps. But not the good kind. Ellie Porter was part of his past. A fantasy. A regret. A deep hurt he’d buried beneath layers of indifference. He didn’t need the ghost of girlfriends past to tell him he’d messed up.

Hell, he’d made more mistakes in his almost-thirty years than a lot of people made in a lifetime. But he liked to think he’d learned from them. Besides, Ellie wasn’t an old girlfriend. At least not in reality. He’d kissed her once, but that was it.

In the privacy of his imagination, however, he’d done a lot more. Ellie had featured in his adolescent fantasies on a nightly basis. He’d been head over heels, hormone driven, wildly in lust with her. Everything about her reduced him to shivering need.

The smell of her hair. The dimple in her cheek when she smiled. The way her breasts filled out a sweater. Even the tiny gap between her two front teeth had charmed him. He would have given his family’s entire fortune for the chance to spend one night with her. To lose himself in her soft, beautiful body and show her how much he cared.

But Ellie Porter and her twin brother, Kirby, had been his two best friends in the whole wide world. So Conor had kept his daydreams to himself, and never once had he let on to Kirby that he thought of Ellie as far more than a pal, even after he’d finally kissed his buddy’s sister.

She’d been popular in high school. A long list of guys had panted after her. Probably even entertained the same fantasies that kept Conor awake and hard at night. Each time she went out with a new date, Conor suffered. He wanted to be the one to hold doors for her and put an arm around her in the movie theater and walk her home on warm, scented summer nights.

But though he and Ellie had shared an undefinable something that went beyond mere friendship, Ellie had disapproved of Conor’s risk-taking. Her rejection of an integral part of his personality had ended anything romantic almost before it began.

He’d often wondered what might have happened if the Porters had stayed in Silver Glen. Would Conor ever have persuaded Ellie to give him another chance? It was a question with no answer. And now they had both moved on. Ellie was married. Conor was still the guy who pitted himself against danger to prove he was alive.

Loud laughter at the table behind him startled him out of his reverie. The Silver Dollar Saloon was a rowdy place on the weekends. His brother Dylan owned the upscale honky-tonk. It wasn’t unusual to see the second-born Kavanagh behind the bar dispensing drinks and advice and jokes along with the pretzels and booze.

Dylan was an extrovert and a people person. He’d settled down a lot since marrying Mia and adopting little Cora. You might even call him a family man. But he still loved the Silver Dollar.

Conor couldn’t blame him. It was the kind of place where everybody knew your name. Locals and tourists alike were drawn to its atmosphere of camaraderie and fun. The music was good, the service above par and the burgers legendary.

Dylan made his way down to the end of the bar and stood in front of Conor, raising an eyebrow at the half-empty bottle of beer Conor had been nursing for the better part of an hour. “I’m losing money on you,” he said. “You’re not eating, you’re not drinking. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love.”

Conor finished off his beer and grimaced. “God forbid. Just because you’re all gaga over marital bliss doesn’t mean the rest of us have to follow suit. I’m perfectly happy as a single man. I like my freedom.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Dylan’s smug assurance was designed to get a rise out of Conor, but it didn’t work. Because deep down, Conor knew it was the truth. He’d seen his older brothers, one by one, succumb to Cupid’s mischief, and the reality of the situation was, they were all happier than Conor had ever seen them.

Liam and Zoe, Dylan and Mia, Aidan and Emma. Even Gavin, who was a hermit and a curmudgeon at times, had been tripped up by the gorgeous and bubbly Cass.

So, yeah...it was hard to overlook the self-satisfied arrogance of his siblings, who were getting laid on a nightly basis. They practically oozed testosterone and caveman triumph.

But what really got to Conor was the look in their eyes when they were with their wives. When they thought no one was watching. Those moments when the alpha males softened and Conor could see the wealth of love that bonded each man with his spouse. That kind of connection was rare and wonderful and Conor would be lying if he said he wasn’t the tiniest bit envious.

It wasn’t in the cards for Conor, though. The one female who had ever inspired such a depth of feeling in him had dealt him a rejection that was very personal. Ellie had disapproved of his love for courting danger. In spite of his attempt to be honest with her and to explain why skiing was so important to him, he’d lost her, anyway.

Ellie had wanted Conor to change who he was. She’d begged him to be more careful. And in the end, she had stood by his hospital bed with sorrow in her eyes and told him they didn’t have a future, because he loved the rush of adrenaline more than he cared about her.

* * *

Even then he had seen the truth in her words. As a child, he’d suffered from a respiratory ailment that kept him confined indoors. Once he finally outgrew the problem, he’d been determined to prove himself. He was driven to be the fastest and best at everything he did.

That blind determination to be number one had cost him.

Life was full of regrets. He should know. A man had to move forward or be forever cemented in the past. Personally and professionally, he’d had plenty of opportunities to learn that lesson the hard way.

Dylan handed him a menu. “Buy something. Flirt with someone. You’re giving the place a bad vibe.”

With a reluctant grin, Conor shook his head. “God forbid that you should let your brother hang out undisturbed. Bring me a Coke and a cheeseburger, damn it.”

Dylan nodded, his attention drawn to the two men arguing heatedly at table six. “That’s more like it.”

When Dylan strode away to break up the potentially violent situation, Conor watched the interaction with admiration. Somehow his brother managed to steer both men to the front door and outside without causing a fuss. The Silver Dollar didn’t tolerate brawls.

While Conor waited for his food, he flipped through messages on his cell phone and frowned, not really seeing any of them. What would happen if he simply showed up at Ellie’s front door and said hello? Would she look the same? Would he like her as much?

They hadn’t seen each other in thirteen years, or was it fourteen by now? She wouldn’t be sixteen anymore. So why did he still see her that way? It made no sense. All he was doing was torturing himself with one of those weird good-old-days memories that never held up under scrutiny.

Like the octogenarian who goes back to his childhood home only to find a strip mall where he used to play, Conor was keeping alive something that wasn’t even real. Memories were not bad things. As long as you realized that the only truth was the moment you were living right now.

His accident years ago had cost him a skiing career. And had erased any possibility of having Ellie Porter in his life. Those two facts were irrefutable.

And what about Kirby? Conor and Kirby had been closer than brothers. They had studied together and played sports together and dreamed dreams together. Both of them had had big plans for the future. But their bond had been broken by something as mundane as Kirby’s parents taking him to another hemisphere.

Could a friendship like that be resurrected? Only time would tell...but Conor hoped so.

He finished his meal and yawned despite the fact that it was not even ten o’clock yet. He’d been up at dawn. Had worked his ass off all day. He was the boss. He owned the Silver Mountain Ski Resort. But idle living had never suited him. Maeve Kavanagh had raised seven sons, mostly unassisted, and in spite of the Kavanagh fortune and the family’s influence and reach in the town of Silver Glen, she had drilled into her boys the value of hard work.

According to Conor’s mother, the size of a man’s bank balance was no excuse for laziness. Her boys heeded the message. Liam ran the Silver Beeches Lodge with his mother. Dylan owned and managed the Silver Dollar Saloon. Aidan was some kind of banking genius up in New York. Gavin’s baby was the Silver Eye, his cyber security operation.

On Conor’s twenty-third birthday, he had officially taken over the ski resort. The move seemed obvious since he had spent a large portion of his childhood and adolescence gliding down those slopes. At one time he had dreamed of medals and podiums and national anthems being played in his honor.

But life had a way of smacking you in the face occasionally. His plans had changed.

Conor had a good life. And a great family. He was a lucky man.

So why did he still think about Ellie Porter?

The two blondes at table six were giving him the eye. They were both cute and looked athletic. No doubt, exactly his type. But tonight he couldn’t summon up enough interest to play their game, even with a threesome in the realm of possibility. What in the hell was wrong with him?

“Conor?” He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Summoning a smile, he turned on his stool, prepared to make an excuse...to say he was leaving. But dark blue eyes stopped him in his tracks. “Ellie?”

She nodded, her expression guarded. “Yes. It’s me. I need to talk to you.”

* * *

Ellie found herself at a distinct disadvantage when Conor stood up. She had always been barely five foot five, and Conor Kavanagh was a long, tall drink of water, several inches over six feet. The pale gold highlights in his dark blond hair were the result of many hours spent outdoors. Women paid a lot of money to get that look in a salon.

He wore his hair shorter than he had as a kid. But it was still far too gorgeous for a guy. Not fair at all. The only thing that saved his face from being classically handsome was the silvery scar that ran up the side of his chin and along his jawline. When he was twelve, he’d fallen off the ski lift and cut his face open on a rock.

She and Kirby had been in the seat behind him and had watched in horror as the snow below turned red with Conor’s blood. But Conor had jumped up and waved at them, his typical devil-may-care attitude in full view. Even now, the memory made her queasy.

Conor had definitely grown into his looks.

His rangy frame was much the same as she remembered, though with more muscles, a few more pounds and a posture that said he was at ease in his own skin. The extra weight suited him. Back in high school he’d been on the thin side.

His passion for sports, skiing in particular, and his high-speed metabolism had made it difficult for him to take in enough calories. For Ellie, who had always battled her weight, his problem was one she would have gladly handled.

He stared at her without smiling, the expression in his gray eyes inscrutable. “I heard you and Kirby were back in town.”

She nodded, feeling vaguely guilty. Should she have called Conor instead of simply showing up? “Grandpa isn’t doing well. Kirby and I came home to look after him until my parents retire in nine months. They’ve opened their last clinic in Bolivia, so once it’s up and running to their satisfaction, they’ll move back to Silver Glen.”

“I see.”

Conor’s reticence bothered her. At one time, she and Kirby and Conor had been thick as thieves, their friendship unbreakable. But then her parents had done the unthinkable. They’d become medical missionaries and had moved their family to the jungles of South America to dispense health care to the people there.

“We missed you,” she said quietly. Even before the move, she and Conor had parted ways.

Conor shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s a hell of a long way from Silver Glen to Bolivia. It’s not surprising that we lost touch.”

She nodded. For several months emails had winged back and forth between Kirby and Conor. The occasional snail-mail letter. But in the end, she and Kirby had been too far removed from their old life to maintain that thread. And Ellie had been too hurt by Conor’s pigheadedness to write.

“We were furious, you know,” she said. “In the beginning. We begged my parents to let us stay here with Grandpa and enjoy our senior year.”

“I remember.”

“But they insisted that the four of us were a family. And that we needed to stick together.”

Conor shifted his weight, looking beyond her. “Let’s grab a table,” he said. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yes.” She followed him and took the chair he held out for her.

“Then how about a piece of lemon pie? Dylan swears it’s the best in the state.”

“That sounds great.” She rarely ate desserts, but tonight she needed something to occupy her hands and some activity to fill the awkward silences. In her head, she had imagined this meeting going far differently.

Conor’s lack of enthusiasm for their reunion threw her. When they had placed their order, he leaned his chair back on two legs and eyed her unsmiling. “You’ve turned into a beautiful woman, Ellie. And that’s saying something, because back in high school you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.”

She gaped, totally taken off guard. Heat flooded her cheeks. “You’re being kind.”

“Not kind...merely truthful,” he said, his expression guarded. “I was a guy, not a eunuch. Being your friend wasn’t always easy.”

Still that undercurrent of something.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked, not at all sure what was going on.

“No. Not now.”

“But once upon a time?”

“Yeah. I guess I thought both you and Kirby could have argued harder to stay.”

She bit her lip. “You don’t know the half of it,” she said softly, regret giving her an inward twinge. “We were typical sullen teenagers when we didn’t get our own way. We yelled and pleaded and sulked. But Mom and Dad insisted we were a family and that we would be leaving the nest soon enough...that we needed to stick together. The thing is, they were right. Kirby and I had the most amazing experiences that year.”

“What about your studies?”

“They homeschooled us. And we worked in the clinic. I wish you could have been there, Conor. The jungle is an incredible place. Dangerous, of course, but so beautiful.”

“I’m glad things worked out.” When he glanced at his watch, she sensed he was impatient.

Sadness filled her chest. At one time this man had known all her secrets. Had been at her side for most of the important moments of her life. “How about a dance?” she said impulsively. “For old times’ sake.”

His body language was one big negative, but he nodded. “If you want to.”

The small dance floor was crowded with other couples. Conor held her close and moved them across the scarred hardwood with ease. Gone was the slightly gawky boy she had known. In his place was a powerful, confident man. Not that the young Conor had ever lacked confidence, but still...this Conor was different.

Her response to him took her by surprise. The sexual awareness might be a weak remnant of the past, but then again, she was a living, breathing woman, and Conor was masculinity personified. She’d come here tonight to plead her brother’s case. Ending up in Conor’s arms was both unsettling and frightening. She didn’t have the right to revel in his embrace.

He smelled like an ad for expensive men’s aftershave, but more on the faint and tantalizing end than the knock-you-down way some guys bathed in it. Conor was both achingly familiar and at the same time almost a stranger. The dichotomy was one she couldn’t explain.

Her sundress left her shoulders bare. Conor had one hand at her waist and with the other, clasped her fingers in his. She wondered if he experienced the tingling that rocked her.

Over the years, she had thought of him, of course. Wondered how he was doing. But she didn’t remember ever feeling this aware of his male appeal, even as a giddy teenage girl with a crush.

When the song ended, they returned to their table. Conor sighed. “It’s great to see you, Ellie. But you said you needed to talk to me. And so far all we’ve done is exchange pleasantries. It’s a beautiful night. Do you want to go for a drive so we can hear ourselves think?”

The noise level in the Silver Dollar had increased exponentially as the hour advanced. Conor’s offer was appealing, but she didn’t have the luxury of wasting time. “That sounds wonderful, but I can’t be out much longer. I have a baby, Conor...a son. I put him to bed before I came, and Kirby is keeping an eye on the baby monitor, but sometimes he wakes up.”

Though Conor seemed shocked by her confession, after several beats of silence, he gave her a genuine smile. “The baby or Kirby?”

“Very funny.” She didn’t know why she was so nervous about saying what she needed to say. Except that she still had a hard time accepting it. “I need you to spend some time with Kirby.”

Her request came out sounding more like a demand, but Conor didn’t flinch. “Of course,” he said calmly. “It will be fun to catch up and rehash old times.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She felt her throat tighten with emotion. Tears stung her eyes, foolish tears, because she’d had plenty of time to come to terms with what had happened. “Kirby needs you,” she said. “He’s had a huge blow, and I think it will help him to talk to you.”

“Why me?” Conor’s terse question echoed suspicion.

She couldn’t blame him. He must wonder why no one else in her life had stepped forward to lend support. Conor been invited to her wedding by Kirby, but he’d sent his regrets along with an impersonal gift card. The fourteen years were an enormous void filled with only the slightest contacts from either side.

She rubbed her temples with forefingers. “You had a phenomenal future ahead of you as a competitive skier. Everyone knew it. You had made the American team as a not-quite sixteen-year-old. Everything you ever wanted was in reach.”

“And then I blew out my knee.” The words were flat.

“Yes. So you lost that dream and had to learn who you were without it.”

“No offense, Ellie, but I’d just as soon not rehash that year.”

“Sorry.” She knew what it had cost him to give up his life’s goal. The doctors had told him he could ski cautiously, but that if he tried to hit the slopes aggressively enough to win championships, he risked losing all mobility in his right leg. Despite the overwhelming disappointment, Conor had sucked it up and gotten on with his life.

“What’s wrong with Kirby? What happened?”

She wiped the tears away, not embarrassed but feeling painfully vulnerable. “He lost a foot. Had it amputated just above the ankle.”

Two

Conor’s stomach clenched. “Jesus, Ellie.” Stunned didn’t come close to describing how he felt. The Kirby Conor had known could do anything. He’d played football, basketball and, though he wasn’t a fanatic like Conor, he’d been a creditable skier. “Tell me...” He swallowed hard, not at all sure he really wanted to know.

Ellie was pale, her eyes haunted. “He finished medical school and his residency eighteen months ago. You would be so proud of him, Conor. He’s brilliant. And as good a doctor as my parents are.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He always ruined the curve for the rest of us.”

Ellie nodded. “Exactly. I had to study, but Kirby could look at a textbook and remember almost everything he read.”

“His brain isn’t in question. What happened?”

“As a celebration, he wanted to climb Aconcagua. He went up with a group of other men, almost all of them experienced climbers. But they got caught in a freak storm. The ledge they were sheltering on broke and Kirby fell several hundred feet. His lower leg was caught between rocks. It took rescuers almost forty-eight hours to get to him.”

Conor stared at her aghast, sick at the thought that Kirby survived two nights and days on the mountain only to lose part of a limb. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

Ellie nodded, tears glittering on her eyelashes. “He’s had three surgeries and endless hours of therapy. He’s walking on a prosthetic foot. But, Conor...”

He touched her hand on the table. “But what?”

“He thinks he can’t be a good doctor anymore.”

Conor saw how close she was to breaking down. Unbidden, old feelings rushed in. The need to protect Ellie, first and foremost. He’d always wanted to be her savior. Apparently, some things never changed. A crowded bar on a Friday night was not the place for this kind of conversation. “Come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Outside, he took a deep breath. The night was humid...sticky. But he felt cold inside. Knowing what his friend had suffered made him angry and sad and guilty for all the times he’d grieved for his own lost career. His injury was nothing compared to what Kirby faced.

Ellie’s profile in the illumination from the streetlight on the far side of the parking lot was achingly familiar. Golden-red hair slid across her shoulders. As a teenager he remembered that she always bemoaned her lack of curls. But the silky straight fall of pale auburn was perfect just as it was.

She was curvy, not thin. A very womanly female. He was assaulted with a barrage of emotions that didn’t match up. Part of him wanted to explore the physical pull. But an even stronger part wanted to console her.

“I have to go,” she whispered, the words barely audible.

“Come here, Ellie.” He pulled her into his embrace and held her as she gave in to tears. The sobs were neither soft nor quiet. She cried as if her heart were breaking. And maybe it was. Twins experienced a special bond. Kirby’s injury would have marked her, as well.

Conor stroked his hands down her back, petting her, murmuring words of comfort. Resting his chin on top of her head, he pondered the fact that after all this time, he still experienced something visceral and inescapable when it came to Ellie Porter. Holding her like this felt like coming home. And yet he was the one who had never left.

At last her burst of grief diminished. He released her immediately when she stepped back. Why wasn’t her husband the one comforting her? Where was the guy?

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I guess I’ve been holding all that inside, trying to put on a brave face for Kirby.”

“Understandable.”

“Thank you, Conor.”

Was he a beast for noticing the soft curves of her cleavage above the bodice of her sundress? Or the way her waist nipped in, creating the perfect resting place for a man’s hands?

“For what?”

“For listening.”

He shook his head. “I’m glad you came to find me. And of course I’ll spend time with Kirby. But I have more questions, and it’s late. Why don’t you bring the baby with you and come up to the ski lodge tomorrow? I’ll even feed you.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“All my guys have gone to Asheville for the weekend to catch an outdoor concert. You won’t see anyone but me.”

She nodded slowly. “I’d like that.”

“Silver Glen has missed the Porters.”

That coaxed a smile from her. “And Conor Kavanagh? What about him?”

He ran his hand down her arms, needing to touch her one last time. “Him, too,” he said gruffly. “Him most of all.”

* * *

Ellie drove the short distance home making sure all her attention was focused on the road. She was painfully glad Conor hadn’t asked about Kevin. It would have been hard to talk about that on top of everything else. Her body trembled in the aftermath of strong emotions, and she felt so very tired. Emory was a good baby and slept well as a rule, but he was a handful. Between caring for him and looking after Kirby and her grandfather, she was running on empty.

Leaning on Conor, even briefly, had felt wonderful. He was the same strong, decent, teasing guy she had known so long ago, but even better. He carried himself with the masculine assurance of a grown man. He had been gentle with her, and kind. But something else had shimmered beneath the surface.

Surely she hadn’t imagined the undercurrent of sexual awareness. On her part, it was entirely understandable. Conor was a gorgeous, appealing man in his prime. But maybe she had imagined the rest. She was exhausted and stretched to the limit and at least fifteen pounds overweight.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt sexy and desirable. At least not until tonight. Something about the way Conor looked at her brought back memories of being a teenager and having a crush on her brother’s best friend.

Many times she had envied the bond between Kirby and Conor. Though she and her brother were closer than most siblings, there was no denying the fact that an adolescent boy needed someone of his own sex to hang out with. The two guys had included Ellie in most of their adventures. It wasn’t their fault if she sometimes felt like a third wheel.

And of course, she had never let Kirby see how she felt about Conor. Not even when Conor nearly killed himself and Ellie stood in a hospital room, scared but determined as she gave Conor an ultimatum. It was one of the few secrets she had ever kept from her brother.

That, and her current fear that Kirby was going to give up.

As she pulled into the driveway of her grandfather’s tidy 1950s bungalow, she took a deep breath. She gave herself a minute to stare up at the stars before going inside. Loneliness gripped her, tightening her throat. For better or for worse, she was the glue that held this household together at the moment. The burden lay heavy at times.

Inside, she found Kirby sitting in the dark, kicked back in the recliner, watching a cable news program. She turned on a small table lamp and sat down across from him, yawning.

“Hey, sis,” he said. “Feel better?”

She’d told him she was going for a drive to clear her head.

“Yes, thanks. I appreciate your holding down the fort while I was gone.”

No need to tell him where she had been. Not yet.

Kirby shrugged, his expression guarded. “Even I can do that when our two babies are sleeping.”

“How was Grandpa?”

“Not too bad tonight. He spent an hour telling me stories about Grandma and then took himself off to bed.”

“Good.” An awkward silence fell. No matter how hard she tried to pretend things were normal, they were anything but. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Can I get you anything before you go to bed? Warm milk? A snack?”

Kirby’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. “No. I’m good.”

But he wasn’t. He’d suffered wretched insomnia since the accident. Chances were, he’d avoid his bedroom again tonight and doze in the recliner until morning.

Feeling helpless and frustrated, she stood and crossed the room. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, she put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

He put his hand over hers. “Go to bed, Ellie. I’m fine.”

After a quick shower, she climbed onto the old-fashioned feather mattress and lay beneath a cool cotton sheet, listening to the sounds of Emory breathing. The baby had been her salvation over the past terrible months. Her little boy was innocent and precious and totally dependent on her for care. She couldn’t afford to have a breakdown or any other dramatic response to the soap opera that was her life.

She had shed her share of tears over Kirby but always in private. It was important to her that he not feel like an object of pity. Which meant she forced herself to walk a fine line between being helpful and smothering him.

Her own tragedy had been forced into the shadows, because caring for Kirby had taken precedence. Seeing Conor again made her dangerously vulnerable. Even though she had sought him out, she would have to be on guard when they were together. She didn’t deserve his care and concern.

As drowsiness beckoned, she allowed herself to remember what it felt like to be close to Conor, first on the dance floor and later as he held her and comforted her. She shivered, though the room was warm. What would her life have been like if she and Conor had never argued so bitterly...if the Porters had never left Silver Glen?

It was a tantalizing question.

But the truth was, she now traversed a difficult road. Grief and fatigue could be dangerous. She should not mistake Conor’s kindness for something more. Her life had not turned out according to plan. Even so, she would not wallow in self-pity. And she would not cling to a man to make it through this rough patch.

She was strong and resilient. She needed to keep her head up and her eyes on the future. The guilt she carried threatened to drag her under, and she would be mortified if Conor ever suspected the truth. His friendship would be a wonderful bonus, but only if the lines were clearly drawn. Perhaps, if he managed to coax Kirby out of the doldrums, the three of them could be the trio of friends they once were.

* * *

The following morning she fixed breakfast for the men in her life and then made sandwiches for lunch and put them in the fridge. She didn’t like lying to her brother, so she had scheduled a well-baby checkup for Emory and said that she was going shopping afterward.

The doctor visit was real. Kirby wouldn’t expect her back at any specific time. Fortunately, the pediatrician was on time, and the appointment went off without a hitch.

Emory was in a sunny mood. She wanted him to make a good impression on Conor, which was kind of silly, but as a relatively new mom, she was still so proud of her baby and wanted the whole world to see how special he was.

The trip to the ski resort didn’t take long at all. When she pulled up in front of the large Alpine-style chalet that was command central for the winter ski crowd, Ellie was impressed. She’d spent a lot of time here in her youth, but clearly, major updates had been done over the years. The grounds and exterior were immaculate.

Conor waved her over to the door. Ellie slung a diaper bag and her purse over her shoulder and scooped up the baby. As they stepped through the double oak doors carved with fir trees and mountains, she paused to take in the lobby. Although large in scale, it had a cozy feel because of the quilted wall hangings, thick area rugs and half-a-dozen fireplaces scattered around the perimeter.

Enormous plate-glass windows afforded a view of the ski slopes below. In December it would be breathtaking. Even now, at the height of summer, it was impressive.

Conor urged her toward a mission-style sofa upholstered in crimson and navy stripes. “Have a seat. I’ll round up some drinks and a snack.” He paused to stare at Emory. “He’s a cute kid.”

“His name is Emory.”

“Does he take after his dad?”

Her heart clenched. Was Conor deliberately fishing for information? If so, she wasn’t ready to talk about that subject. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “I think he’s beginning to look like me,” she said lightly, nuzzling her nose in the baby’s strawberry blond curls.

Conor stared at her and then looked back at Emory. “I suppose so.”

Without knowing it, she had been holding her breath, because when Conor walked out of the room, she exhaled, all the oxygen in her lungs escaping in one whoosh.

Emory was unconcerned. He squirmed in her arms, wanting to get down. He was already close to walking and proved it yet again by cruising around the edges of the coffee table with confidence. When Conor returned, Emory gave him a big, slobbery grin.

As Conor set down a tray with lemonade and shortbread, Ellie lifted an eyebrow. “Somebody’s domesticated,” she said teasingly.

Conor shuddered theatrically. “Not me. I have a housekeeper who looks after my place and the chalet. She apparently thinks I’m in danger of starving to death, because every time she comes to clean, I find baked goods on the kitchen counter.”

“She must like you very much.”

Conor shook his head ruefully. “It’s not like that. She’s seventy-two years old. She likes the fat paycheck I give her because it supplements her income.”

“If you say so.” She had a hunch that the unnamed housekeeper had a soft spot for her generous boss.

Conor sat down beside Ellie on the sofa and chuckled when Emory let go of the edge of the coffee table and sat down hard on his bottom. The baby’s look of indignation was comical. “He’s going to lead you a merry chase as soon as he realizes he can go anywhere and everywhere.”

“Don’t I know it. I’ve already been baby proofing my grandfather’s house.”

“How is Mr. Porter doing?”

“He has his good days and bad. Sometimes he puts his reading glasses in the freezer and forgets to wear pants, but with Kirby and I around, he seems happy. I think he was afraid he would have to go into a rest home, so he’s being extra sweet and cooperative.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“That goes both ways.”

Conor leaned forward, scooping up Emory and putting him back on his feet. “There you go, little man. The world is yours.”

“Or at least this table.” Ellie chuckled. She was torn between being excited about her son’s prowess and worried that he would hurt himself. “He has no fear. Which scares me to death.”

Conor nodded, his eyes on Emory’s progress. “I don’t know how my mom did it. Seven boys.”

“That should qualify her for sainthood.”

They both laughed and, for a moment, their eyes met. Ellie looked away first, her cheeks heating.

Conor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his gaze trained on the floor. “Are you going to tell me about Emory’s dad?”

Ellie inhaled sharply, stunned that he would ask so bluntly. But then again, Conor had never shied away from difficult conversations. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe I am. I came here to talk about Kirby.”

She saw Conor flinch. “You’ve developed a hard edge, Ellie.”

“I’m not a child anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

He shot her a look over his shoulder, his warm, masculine gaze taking in her navy tank top and khaki skirt. “I’m well aware of that, believe me.” Conor must have noticed that she didn’t wear a wedding ring. Was that why he felt the freedom to say such things to her?

“I believe you offered me a snack,” she said calmly, though her heart was beating overtime.

Conor sat back, his wry smile rueful. “I suppose that means I’m pouring.”

She corralled Emory when he seemed ready to try his luck climbing onto the sofa. “No, sweetheart. No lemonade for you. I have your sippy cup of milk right here.”

Conor shook his head. “Poor kid. I’ll bet you won’t let him have a cookie, either.”

“Of course not.”

Conor laughed as he handed her a glass. “I was only kidding. Even I know a little kid isn’t supposed to have sugar. How old is he? I’m guessing his first birthday is not far off.”

“Ten months. He’s big for his age.”

“I’ll bet Uncle Kirby loves him.”

“He does. The two of them are sweet together.”

“So tell me about Kirby. Why do you think he needs to talk to me?”

Ellie took a long drink and set down her glass, still half-full. “The last year and a half has been really hard for him. Not only losing the foot, but being a patient instead of a physician. He’s used to being the one in charge, the one caring for other people. So not only has he been dealing with the changes in his physical capabilities, he’s gotten it in his head that he won’t be a good doctor now. He has offers waiting from at least four prestigious medical centers across the country, but he refuses to deal with them.”

“I’m not a counselor, Ellie.”

“I know that,” she said. “But you have some inkling of what it’s like to have your whole life turned upside down. You’ve moved on. You’ve made new goals. You’ve accepted your limitations.”

Three

But had he? Had he really? Conor didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he still grieved the loss of his adolescent dreams. He’d put on a brave face for his family...pretended that he was okay with no longer competing. But deep down, a tiny kernel of futile anger remained that he’d been robbed of doing the one thing that gave him such an incredible rush of exhilaration.

“I didn’t get there overnight, Ellie. Acceptance takes time. And Kirby has lost far more than I ever did.”

“That’s not really true, if you think about it. You had to give up competing completely. But Kirby can still be a doctor.”

Her words sent shock reverberating through Conor’s gut. Had all his pretending been wrong? Would it have made life easier if he’d been up-front about his grief?

He cleared his throat, stunned that a woman he hadn’t seen in a decade and a half could analyze the situation so succinctly. “I’ll talk to him. If you think he wants to see me. But I can’t promise miracles.”

“I appreciate it, Conor.”

Ellie’s grateful smile made him uncomfortable. She glowed this morning, no other word for it. Motherhood suited her. If Conor started hanging out at the Porter household, he would see her regularly. That was probably not a good idea given his fascination with her.

Because there was still the mystery of Emory’s father.

Even so, he was drawn to her warmth and caring. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he was sexually attracted to her. She had a body that was lush and ripe. He ached to touch her, much as he had as a teenager. Only now, he knew the kind of pleasure a man and a woman could share.

Imagining Ellie in his bed was definitely not smart. Tormenting himself was pointless. Conor hadn’t changed. He still courted danger. He still relished the exhilaration of pitting himself against the elements. Which meant that Ellie would be as disapproving as ever when she found out the truth about him.

He picked up Emory and blew raspberries on his tummy, anything to distract himself from the image of Ellie’s naked body. “When do you want me to see Kirby?” he asked, wincing as Emory grabbed handfuls of his hair.

“Whenever it’s convenient for you. I know you have a business to run.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the off-season. I’m not exactly tied to a desk. What if I order lunch from the deli and we pick it up on the way to your grandfather’s house?”

“That would be perfect. I’d already made some sandwiches for Kirby and Grandpa and left them in the fridge, but they’ll keep until tomorrow.”

“You want to ride with me?”

“I can’t. The car seat, you know.”

“Ah. Yes. Does your grandfather still live in the same house?”

“Yes.” She scooped up Emory.

“Well, in that case, I’ll see you over there in half an hour.”

He helped Ellie load up the car and watched as she drove away. Already he felt a connection that was stronger than it should have been given their long separation.

It occurred to him suddenly that he had asked questions about Kirby, but he still had no idea what Ellie did for a living. Though she downplayed her intelligence in comparison to her twin, he knew she had done well in school, also. The teachers had loved her.

Conor had wanted her. But her refusal to accept him as he was had kept his adolescent urges in check. Nothing had changed. He’d be smart to ignore this inconvenient attraction. Ellie wasn’t the woman for him.

* * *

The deli was accustomed to him placing to-go orders, but they were surprised by the size of this one. The cute teenager behind the counter smiled teasingly. “Having a party, Mr. Kavanagh?” she asked.

Mr. Kavanagh? Hell, did he seem that old to this kid? “Lunch with some friends.”

“We have fresh strawberry cake in the back. One that’s not even sliced yet. You want a few pieces?”

“I’ll buy the whole thing.” Conor would take any help he could get in the way of a welcome offering. He wasn’t at all sure his invitation from Ellie was going to get Kirby’s stamp of approval. Men liked to hide out and lick their wounds. Kirby might not appreciate having Conor show up out of the blue.

At Mr. Porter’s place, Conor parked on the street and unloaded the bags from the deli. With the cake box balanced in one arm, he made his way up the walk. The property was not in great shape. Not too surprising for an older person who didn’t have the strength to handle fix-it jobs.

The paint on the house was peeling in places. He saw a section of rotting wood on a soffit. Several dead plants needed to be replaced. Even the driveway needed to be resurfaced.

Ellie and Kirby no doubt had plenty of financial resources to take care of things, but maybe Conor could offer to do a few odd jobs. It would give him an excuse to hang around, and maybe he could coax Kirby into holding the ladder or drinking a beer while he kept Conor company.

Ellie waited at the door, the baby on her hip. She looked anxious but incredibly beautiful. “I told him you’re coming,” she said. Her eyes were darker than usual. In their depths he saw worry.

“Point me toward the kitchen,” he said. “And I’ll dump all this stuff. What did he say when you told him?”

“Not much.”

“Great,” Conor muttered. “Does the term busybody mean anything to you?” He put the cold items away and leaned back against the counter. The kitchen was small and dated, but cozy and welcoming in a retro way. He and Kirby and Ellie had visited here on occasion as kids.

“That’s not fair,” she said, her gaze mulish as Emory yanked on a strand of her hair. “Kirby needs company. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“So I’m your token guinea pig?”

She shrugged. “I’ve done all I can do. If there’s going to be a change in the status quo, I’m betting on you.”

“No pressure.” He was stalling, honestly scared that his longtime friend was going to kick him out after an obligatory five-minute visit. “Let’s get this over with. But if he doesn’t want me here, I’m leaving.”

“We may have to ease him into it, but I know this will be a good thing.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” What did Conor possibly have to say to a man who had lost part of a limb? Yet even amid his doubts, Conor knew he would do anything to put a smile on Ellie’s face.

Mr. Porter was napping, so Kirby was the only one in the living room when Ellie and Conor walked in. In a flash, Conor saw that Kirby had changed. More than Conor could have imagined. The teenage boy Conor remembered was a man with lines at the corners of his eyes and a tight jaw that spoke of pain suffered and battles fought.

Conor crossed the room, holding out his hand. “Hey, Kirby. It’s great to have you back in town. Don’t get up, man.”

But Kirby had already risen awkwardly to his feet, his arms outstretched. “What took you so long?”

Conor hugged him hard, feeling a reciprocal level of emotion in his friend’s embrace. “I had to pick up the food.”

After a moment, they separated. Kirby settled back in his recliner. Conor took a seat close by. Kirby shook his head. “I’ve missed you, buddy. More than you know.” The tone in his voice said a whole lot more than his prosaic words.

Conor had only a split second to ponder his next move. He tapped Kirby’s knee. “So let me see this fake foot.”

“Conor!” Ellie’s shocked exclamation fell into a pit of silence.

Kirby blinked in shock. His jaw worked. And then he burst out laughing. A gut-deep, hearty, belly laugh that went on and on until Conor and Ellie joined in.

Kirby wiped his eyes, his grin a shadow of his former self but a grin, nevertheless. “God, it’s good to see you.” He lifted his pants and extended his leg. “Carbon. Latest issue. The best money can buy.”

“Comfortable?”

“Hurts like hell most of the time, but I’m getting there.”

Conor stood and gave Ellie his most reassuring look. “Why don’t you give us some guy time? I’ll keep little Emory if you don’t mind. We have to train him up right.”

“God forbid,” Ellie said. But she handed over her son without protest. “I’ll have lunch ready in half an hour.”

Kirby nodded. “Thanks, sis.”

When Ellie left the room, Conor juggled the baby. He’d assumed, and rightly so, that Emory’s presence would fill any awkward silences. “So how are you really doing?”

Kirby grimaced. “Honest to God, I don’t know, Conor. Most mornings when I wake up, it still seems like a dream, until I try to stand up and forget I don’t have the damned prosthesis on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly fallen on my face.”

“Ellie worries about you.”

“I know. She and my parents have been great through all of this. But sometimes I feel a little bit...”

“Smothered?”

Kirby glanced at the doorway and lowered his voice. “Yes. But she’s been so good to me, Conor. I don’t think I would have made it without her. So how can I tell her I need some space?”

“Maybe you won’t have to. You and I have years to catch up on. If we’re hanging out doing stuff, Ellie will be delighted, and it will give you a chance to venture out of the nest.”

“So now I’m a baby bird?”

Kirby’s disgruntled expression made Conor chuckle. “Bad analogy. But seriously...what do you think of the idea?”

“I’m on board. These walls have been closing in on me.”

“Good.” Conor paused, feeling vaguely guilty for what he was about to do. “Ellie told me a lot about you and her parents, but she’s been reticent about herself. What does she do for a living? I assume she’s on maternity leave?”

“Not exactly. She has degrees in political science and international affairs. Speaks several languages. A number of years ago she began working as a cultural attaché at one of the embassies in Buenos Aires. She’s brilliant, Conor. But when I had my accident, she resigned to take care of me. And then, of course, the baby came along...”

“I see.” Conor did see. Ellie was devoted to her twin. Generous and compassionate. But one more question loomed. He lowered his voice, not wanting Ellie to know he was snooping. “What about her husband? Are they divorced?”

“No.”

The negative sent Conor’s stomach into a free fall. “Oh.” Disappointment knotted his chest.

Kirby shook his head, his gaze troubled. “She didn’t tell you?”

Conor frowned. “Tell me what?”

“Ellie’s husband Kevin was climbing with me when I had my accident. He fell also. Died of a broken neck. Didn’t even know he was going to be a father.”

* * *

Ellie set the large kitchen table for four and pulled the high chair to one end. She unwrapped all the food with a raised eyebrow. Conor had spared no expense. But the Kavanaghs were extremely wealthy, so it was no surprise. Their ancestors had discovered silver in these mountains several generations ago and thus solidified the family fortunes.

The town of Silver Glen was a popular destination for celebrities and public figures who wanted to get away from it all. The charming shops and wonderful restaurants, combined with year-round recreational opportunities, appealed to a well-heeled crowd.

The advisory council had taken careful measures to limit overbuilding and to keep the Alpine flavor of the community intact. Their care paid off. The Silver Beeches Lodge and the multitude of bed-and-breakfasts in town rarely had openings unless a patron booked months in advance.

Ellie checked her watch. She had given Kirby and Conor plenty of time. Taking a moment to summon her grandfather, she then returned to the living room. “Lunch is ready,” she said, glancing from her brother to his best friend. The two men appeared to be enjoying themselves. Emory was curled against Conor’s chest playing with a teething ring.

The meal turned out to be an awkward affair. Ellie’s grandfather floated in and out, one minute coherent, the next saying bizarre things that made Ellie sad and discouraged. It was hard to see a loved one deteriorate.

At one point, Grandpa Porter sat straight up in his ladder-back chair and pointed an accusing finger at Conor. “I remember you,” he said. “You used to have a soft spot for my little granddaughter, Ellie.”

Though Ellie flushed with mortification, Conor took it all in stride. “Yes sir, I did. But that was a long time ago.”

Kirby intervened. “Do you want some cake, Grandpa? It’s homemade.”

The ruse distracted the old man, fortunately. Ellie couldn’t decide what was going on with Conor. He and Kirby laughed and joked together as if they had never been apart, but Conor scarcely looked at Ellie. Fortunately, Emory demanded much of her attention.

When everyone had finished eating, Conor stood. “If you all will excuse me, I have to get back to the ski lodge. This was great. Kirby, I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll make a plan.”

Again, Conor avoided eye contact with Ellie. “I’ll walk you out to the car,” she said, miffed that he was being standoffish.

“It’s not necessary.”

Was it only her, or did his smile seem forced? “I know that,” she said. “But I want to.”

Conor didn’t even pause on the front porch. He strode down the path as if he had a plane to catch and not much time to make his connection. “Bye, Ellie.” He tossed the words over his shoulder, barely slowing down.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his shirtsleeve. “Tell me how Kirby sounded to you. Do you think he’s okay? This was the first time I’ve heard him laugh like that since the accident.”

Conor pulled away but came to a halt, turning to face her. “He’s going to be fine, Ellie. Losing the foot has knocked the wind out of him, but he hasn’t given up, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I was worried. Thank you for coming today,” she said. “And thank you for the lunch.”

Conor seemed uncomfortable with her gratitude. “No problem.”

Well, shoot. “Did I do something to offend you?” she asked bluntly. “You’re acting weird all of a sudden.”

The tiny flicker of a muscle in his cheek told her that he understood what she was saying. He stood there staring at her, his expression impassive. But his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

The sky was cloudless, the sun beaming down unforgivingly. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back. Conor’s posture was like stone. He was a completely different man from the one she’d spoken with at the saloon...or even at the ski lodge.

She saw his throat work.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. The words seemed ripped from his chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“Kirby told me about your husband. About Kevin. I’m so damned sorry, Ellie.”

His sympathy caught her completely off guard, though she should have guessed at some level that Kirby would spill the beans. “Thank you.” What else was there to say? She couldn’t tell him how she was feeling...how she had suffered. How she still suffered.

“To have dealt with that and also caring for Kirby...you’re a strong woman.” She could swear he was anguished on her behalf. But instead of feeling warmed by his empathy, it made her want to run.

She shrugged. “I don’t feel strong. Most days I feel like a juggler with too many oranges and too few hands. But I don’t see why this requires an apology.”

“I flirted with you. I saw you weren’t wearing a wedding ring and I assumed—”

“That I was divorced,” she said quickly.

He nodded, his eyes bleak. “Lord, Ellie, I never even considered the fact that you were a widow.”

“Does it matter?” She was shriveling inside, actively pained at the thought of discussing Kevin with Conor Kavanagh. Her guilt consumed her. What would Conor think if he ever found out the truth...the truth that not even Kirby knew?

“Yeah,” he said, the word harsh. “I’m not usually such an idiot. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I am single, Conor, whether I want to be or not.”

He ignored her words as if she had never spoken. “I’ll do what I can for Kirby. And if I can help you in any way, all you need to do is ask. You’re a mother and a daughter and a sister and a granddaughter. That’s a lot for anyone to handle. I’d like to make things easier for you.”

“Kirby needs your help, not me.” She didn’t want to be Conor Kavanagh’s charity case. She was lonely and afraid and confused. The thought of resurrecting her friendship with Conor had kept her going lately. Now, even that was in jeopardy.

Conor stared at her, his gaze shuttered. “I’ll be in touch with Kirby. Goodbye, Ellie.”

Four

Conor spent a sleepless night, largely due to his dreams. Even knowing that Ellie was a grieving widow didn’t keep his subconscious from going after what it wanted in erotic, carnal vignettes. The little devil on his shoulder pointed out the opportunity to take advantage of a vulnerable woman.

He wouldn’t do that. Probably. Definitely.

When he heard Ellie had come home to Silver Glen, he had visions of reconnecting with the laughing, happy sixteen-year-old girl he had known. At some level, he resented the fact that she had an entire life he knew nothing about. He wanted her to be the girl in his fantasies. The childhood friend. The innocent first love.

Even to himself he had to admit the problem with that rationale. Though he had never married, he’d had two pretty serious relationships. Both of them had ended for different reasons, but he’d been emotionally invested each time. In between, he’d sown his share of wild oats.

He liked women. The way they smelled. The way they moved. The interesting ways their minds worked.

What he didn’t like was the idea of competing with a dead man.

Did that make him petty? Or simply pragmatic?

Beyond that conundrum was the knowledge that he and Ellie were not suited for each other. He was still the kind of man she had once rejected. He hadn’t changed. Not really. It would be better for both of them if he kept his distance.

He called Kirby early and made arrangements to pick him up at ten. “I’ll wait in the car,” he said. “And keep the A/C going. It’s hot as hell today.”

The stalled-out weather front was unrelenting. Humidity and a scorching summer sun alternately baked and broiled the town. But the real reasons he decided not to go into the house were twofold. He didn’t want to see Ellie, and he did want to watch Kirby walk to the car.

He sent a text when he pulled up in front of the house. Moments later, as if he had been waiting by the door, Kirby appeared on the porch. As Conor watched, the other man made his way down the walk.

To a casual observer, Kirby’s legs and gait would appear normal. But Conor looked beneath the surface. He saw the effort Kirby was making to walk naturally. Instead of looking toward the car, Kirby’s eyes were trained on the ground as if something might jump up at any moment to trip him and send him flying.

Conor’s heart contracted in sympathy, but he knew that kind of response would be the last thing Kirby wanted. Kirby didn’t need Conor’s platitudes. What he needed was to feel normal.

Leaning across the passenger seat, Conor unlocked the door and shoved it open. “Climb in, my friend. We’ve got a full day planned.”

Kirby eased his big body into the car and shut the door. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his lips pressed together in a white-rimmed line. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

Conor drummed his hands on the steering wheel. Then he sighed. “Do you have a cane, Kirby? Do you need it?”

Kirby stared straight ahead, his tumultuous emotions etched in his body language. “Did I look that bad tottering out here?” he asked, the question clipped with frustration.

“You looked fine. Honestly. But I know you, man. You once played an entire quarter of football with a busted wrist. Today, though, we’re not out to prove anything. So, tell me the truth.”

“Yes and yes.” Kirby’s breathing was shallow, his skin clammy and pale. He dropped his head against the back of the seat and muttered an expletive under his breath.

“Do you have any objections if I go get the damned thing?”

Kirby shrugged, his eyes closed. “Knock yourself out.”

Conor shouldn’t have been surprised to find Ellie hovering just inside the door. She was wearing old faded jeans and a white tank top that showed off her honey-colored tan and more-than-a-C-cup breasts. “I’m here for his cane,” he said. “Superman out there is trying to prove something, but I want to get him home in one piece.”

Ellie nodded, relief on her face. “He’s stubborn.”

“I’d be the same way. In fact, I was,” he said, thinking back to the long months after his skiing accident. “I was determined to show everybody that I was okay. That things were back to normal.”

“And were they?”

Though he saw nothing but simple curiosity on her face, the question stung. “No,” he said bluntly. “They weren’t.” He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Even though she smelled like vanilla and temptation.

He took the carved walnut cane and left without saying goodbye. He could barely look at Ellie now. All he could see was an image of her in another man’s arms, another man’s bed.

When he got back in the car and tossed the cane in the backseat, Kirby had recovered enough to give him a wry smile. “They tell me not to push it...that time is what I need. But I’m damned tired of feeling like a cripple.”

“Is that how you would refer to one of your patients?” Conor started the engine.

Kirby’s head shot around so fast it was amazing he didn’t get whiplash. “Of course not.”

“Then quit whining. Life sucks. Sometimes more than others. You’ve made it through the worst part. You might as well concentrate on having fun once in a while.”

Kirby fell silent for the remainder of the trip to the ski resort. Had Conor offended him?

Once they arrived at the lodge, Conor was stymied at first. In ordinary circumstances, he would have asked Kirby to hike the perimeter of the property with him. As high school kids, fitness had been everything to them. That was a long time ago, though, and Kirby faced a new reality.

Kirby was a doctor, a pediatric specialist according to Ellie. All Conor had to do was persuade him that losing a foot didn’t negate his training and his future.

Easier said than done. But Conor was determined to ease the grief in Ellie’s eyes. She had come to Conor for help, and he would give it, even if it meant keeping his physical needs in check. He was no longer an adolescent boy with a crush on a girl. Still, his need to make Ellie happy had apparently survived the years of separation.

After a quick tour of the lodge, Conor made a snap decision. If they couldn’t hike the property, they could at least see it from the air. “How about riding the chairlift with me?” he said. “We run it at least once a week to see if any problems crop up.”

Kirby nodded, his mood hard to read. “Sure.”

At the top of the lift, Conor elbowed his friend. “If that foot falls off, I’m not crawling all over this mountain to find it.”

Apparently he hit just the right note, because Kirby chuckled. “Is nothing sacred to you?”

“If you were expecting me to baby you like Ellie does, you’re in for a disappointment. You lost a foot. But you’re still Kirby Porter. So get over yourself.”

Truth be told, Conor was a bit anxious about how Kirby would hop up on the lift. But the other man managed the quick maneuver without incident. Once they were airborne, Conor relaxed.

Except for college, Conor had spent his entire life in Silver Glen. He loved the town, the valley and especially this mountain. He’d skied his first bunny slope the winter he was three years old. After that nothing had stopped him. Until the accident over a decade later.

When the doctors told him he could no longer compete, Conor had been wrapped in a black cloud of despair. He liked nothing better than pitting himself against an unforgiving mountain. Better yet, alongside other guys just like himself who had something to prove. Skiing was the way he released the fount of energy that kept him restless and active.

Ellie had visited him in the hospital and given him a choice. Either give up skiing, or give up her. They’d been on the verge of making their mutual attraction an official dating relationship.

In the end, though, Conor had lost almost everything. He’d had no choice but to adapt. No more black diamond descents. No more breakneck speeds. He’d had to find another outlet for his competitive nature.

Conor didn’t think he was the only one who relaxed as they rode. But it was all the way down and back up and down again before Kirby spoke.

“Thank you, Conor,” he said.

“For letting you ride the lift without a ticket?”

Kirby grinned, his face in profile. “For reminding me not to be a jackass.”

“I don’t mean to minimize what you’ve been through. I know it’s been hell.”

Kirby sobered. “I thought I understood the will to live. My parents are doctors. I’m a doctor. But it wasn’t until I spent two entire days thinking I was going to die that I truly grasped what it means to fight for life.” He paused. “I still have nightmares. It scares Ellie.”

Conor inhaled sharply, imagining softhearted Ellie bearing witness to her twin’s demons. “She’s a strong woman.”

“You have no idea. In those early days she never left my bedside. Sometimes she would throw up in a trash can because the morning sickness was so bad.”

“And the funeral? Her husband?”

“His parents planned the whole thing. Ellie left the hospital...attended the service...and immediately came back to my room. It worries me that she hasn’t had a chance to grieve. I’m afraid that one day she’ll wake up and everything will come crashing down on her. Postpartum depression alone is dangerous. Ellie lost her husband on top of that.”

“Does she talk about him?”

“Never. At first I thought she was angry because I invited Kevin to go on the climb with me. In fact, I even asked her if that was true.”

“And what did she say?”

“She never answered me. It’s like she’s shoved his memory into a box she won’t open.”

“So she can concentrate on you.”

“Exactly. We’re close, Ellie and I, but you know that already. I’ve always been able to understand what she’s thinking. Until now. Suddenly it’s as if she’s determined to forget the accident completely.”

“Maybe that’s the only way she can cope. Maybe it’s too painful.”

“I suppose so. But it’s not good for her. She’s given up her career. She’s lost her marriage. And Lord knows, babies require the ultimate self-sacrifice. I’ve tried to get her to take some time for herself. To go away for a few days or get a massage. Anything. But she won’t listen.”

“Maybe I can think of something.” Conor winced in astonishment as the impetuous words left his lips.

Kirby turned his head. “Like what?”

“Well...” His brain scrambled for answers. “In two weeks Mom and Liam are hosting a Christmas in August ball at the Silver Beeches Lodge. It’s a fun thing they started doing three years ago. Brings in tons of extra visitors, plus, the townspeople are invited. Everyone dresses up. They’ll have a 1940s band that plays Christmas songs. It’s actually pretty fun. You could both come with me.”

Kirby shook his head. “I want to do this for her—I’ll stay at the house and look after Emory and Grandpa. That way Ellie will be more inclined to have a good time.”

“Okay.” Damn. Conor didn’t want this to look like a date. Several times in his life he’d jockeyed with another guy to win a girl’s affections. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost.

But he was smart enough to know that going head-to-head with a ghost would be hell on a man’s ego. He’d never met Kevin. And now he never would.

Kirby mentioned the guy as if he’d been a good husband. Conor was good at skiing. That was about it. Well, he was good in bed, too. But that wasn’t likely to come into play.

He would take the grieving widow to a party and show her a fun time. That was where it ended.

Still, there was one more thing he had promised Ellie. And having her brother as a captive audience at the moment meant he could fulfill that pledge. “Ellie tells me you have some good job offers.”

Kirby scowled. “All of which came in before I took a header off that mountainside.”

“Is that a problem? You didn’t get a concussion...right? You still remember all that stuff they taught you in med school, don’t you?”

“There’s more to being a doctor than what you read in books.”

“Sure there is. Compassion. Empathy. You’ve lived through a traumatic experience. I’d say both of those qualities make you a better medical professional.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Conor.”

The curt note in Kirby’s voice told Conor he had pushed enough for the moment. The chairlift approached the lodge for the third time. “You ready for some lunch?” Conor asked, preparing to lend a hand if Kirby stumbled while getting off.

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